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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236983">Hierarchy of Kings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubixaSeraph/pseuds/RubixaSeraph'>RubixaSeraph</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Devil May Cry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bisexual Characters, Fluff, Friendship, Healing, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, Vergil is oblivious, some demon etiquette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:35:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,064</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236983</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubixaSeraph/pseuds/RubixaSeraph</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>So it starts like this:</p><p>Vergil gets a tarot reading. </p><p>He gets a tarot reading and, before he knows it, the conniving little mystic decided to tie a red string of fate about him and ushered him to follow along the thread, to meet the part-devil on the other end. </p><p>Not that he knew exactly that's what she did at first. </p><p>And before he knew it, Vergil found himself being taken out on all sorts of dates, involving interesting new foods and drinks. (Roy is of the belief that the way to a man's heart is always food.) </p><p>((Dante had to be the one to break it to Vergil: "Bro, you're being wine-and-dined by the guy. You gonna, like, commit, or what?"))</p><p>One day, he'll bring it up with Roy: "Is this where I should ask you if you believe in fate?"</p><p>"Vergil, that's a question we learn to never ask in this family." Roy would laugh. "Because we believe fate is just our romanticized version of looking back upon the choices we've made, and telling ourselves that it couldn't be any other way."</p><p>Meanwhile, there will be a moment where Nero is not sure how he feels about <i>a second dad</i> and <i>seven new siblings</i>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Original Character(s), Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Original Male Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hierarchy of Kings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Pieces/gifts">In_Pieces</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>- (I wrote an AU to my Reignite series. Yeah. I did that. Knowledge of Reignite is completely not required, and it's VERY AU, so things are very not-the-same.)<br/>- This is a result from a tumblr prompt list: "How about... 8 and 73 for Vergil/Roy? :eyes_emoji:"<br/>- The prompts:<br/>&gt;8. “I don’t…i’ve never…been in a relationship and i’m going to make mistakes…I just need you to tell me. I need you to talk to me.”<br/>&gt;73. Leaning into the others hand, turning their head and pressing a kiss to the palm<br/>- And then I got way ahead of myself, and instead of some 3k work drabble, you're getting a full 3 chapters of indulgent M/M fluff.<br/>- I have no regrets!<br/>- Important Disclaimer: I have not been to Hong Kong in AGES. Please just imagine this fantasy sector somehow magically in the Hong Kong area that I am describing in this story. I didn't choose America because on some levels I miss my childhood which involved a lot of things in China, but in the past few years I don't even know how different it is over there, either.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had started with an argument with Nero. </p><p>Six months since crawling out of the Underworld, adjustment was hard for all parties. The fact that it took to month six before there was actually an explosive confrontation this bad was actually a feat. </p><p>At this point, one of the doors to Devil May Cry was off its hinges, and a window was completely shattered and dislodged from a wall. That’s not showing the damage to that side of the wall from the inside of the shop…</p><p>The nature of the argument boiled down to one very large misunderstanding, regarding Vergil’s attitude towards the topic of Nero’s mother. </p><p>More specifically, after careful coaxing, reluctant agreements, and difficult searching of information, they eventually found (underneath cover-ups from the corrupted Order, which engineered the ignorance around Nero’s birth) that his mother was, by and large, dead. MIA, according to the documents of the Holy Knights… if one could call “missing from her own apartment that was stained entirely with blood” MIA. The bits and pieces of human flesh found was no corpse, but it was no mark of hope that she survived, either. </p><p>All there was, was a newborn child. The description was pretty stomach turning, to be honest: under a black blanket, the child was still covered in his mother’s blood and attached to a severed umbilical, laying upon his mother’s bed. The blanket itself had wards stitched upon it, its powers fading from protecting the child beneath. </p><p>The rest was easy history to unearth: Nero was dropped off at the orphanage, never allowed to know where he came from. </p><p>Vergil had felt livid from this revelation, but when it came to emotions, he had a grievous flaw: he was really terrible at showing them. </p><p>Nero took his impassive silences to have meant that he didn’t care. This was far from the truth, but the two of them still have not known each other long enough, nor interacted enough, for the younger to be able to read the silences of the elder. They fought, explosively so. </p><p>The damage to the shop was not where the situation ended, thankfully. Eventually, Vergil mustered just enough understanding and, dare one say, <em> courage </em>, to tell Nero that it wasn’t because he didn’t care about the woman’s death. But still, he did not know what more to say, beyond one admission: “It pains me to realize that my ignorance of your existence was no excuse: I left your mother to die by the hands of demons, no different than how my father left mine and Dante’s mother.”</p><p>That line alone managed to bring father and son to have something passable as a conversation, though the words spoken were like a heavy hammer that neither party was ready for. </p><p>By the end of it all, Dante came back to the shop from a job to find the damages, while Nero and Vergil sat at opposite sides of the office in verbal silence. There was no emotional silence, however. Nero’s eyes were red, as he worked at holding back silent sobs. The first thing he said when Dante walked through the doors, was a quiet: “Sorry ‘bout the shop… I’ll get around to paying for repairs.”</p><p>“What ha--”</p><p>“Dante.” Vergil interrupted. “I need some time away.”</p><p>“<em>What? </em> Hell no--”</p><p>“Just for the night. Give me this much, without your constant supervision. I need…” He swallowed, words having difficulty forming: “I need space. It’s still early morning. I will be back before sunrise tomorrow.”</p><p>“Verge, I can’t just--”</p><p>It was Nero, then, who croaked a surprising vote in Vergil’s favor: “Let him, Dante. One night can’t hurt, can it?”</p><p>Gobsmacked, Dante knew he was going to need answers. At this point, perhaps it would be good to let Vergil go for one night, so that he can get the story from Nero, first. With a slow nod, he didn’t even bother trying to take a jab at Vergil when he gave his permission: “Okay. Tomorrow by sunrise. Stay, safe, ‘k, bro?”</p><p>Vergil didn’t really grace Dante with an answer. Standing up, he unsheathed Yamato, and turned to slice through the fabric of space. </p><p>
  <em> Somewhere far away, but not too far. Familiar, but not too familiar. Need space, need peace. Maybe somewhere safe. Somewhere to heal.  </em>
</p><p>It usually wasn’t safe to simply open a portal without a solid goal in mind. But his mind felt too addled to care right now. </p>
<hr/><p>When Vergil got to his unknown destination, he found himself in a city. </p><p>Familiar, but not too familiar. The scents were all foreign, but it wasn’t away from civilization. There was the scent of the ocean, so it was coastal. Also familiar. The time in this city was about afternoon, however. So, far, but not too far away. </p><p>This was okay. Maybe he’ll find a library, or a park, to sit at and gather his thoughts. </p><p>So he disguised the Yamato into a familiar-looking cane, and set off. </p><p>After a brief stroll down a few blocks, he concluded he was in an urban part of the city, as from afar he could see more towering buildings that were closer together. </p><p>He strolled through a park, trying to focus on the sights, to remain calm. When he got close to a what appeared to be the start of a shopping district, something pinged on his senses:</p><p>Ahead, under the shade of a large umbrella, sitting at a folding table, was a young girl. Her face was obscured by a thin lilac-coloured veil, but through that, he could tell that she was looking right at him. The veil obscured the colour of her eyes and the pallor of her face, but her expression and features were easily seen. She was dressed in a black with lavender stitching QiPao, and various mystic trinkets and boxes were displayed about the table. A sign, written in both English and Chinese (he concluded he must be in Hong Kong), said: <b>Tarot Readings</b>. </p><p>The trinkets and the sign were not what caught his attention. At a slight breeze, he caught a scent that confirmed what he felt: magic. </p><p>She exuded trace amounts of magic. And she knew that he noticed, for with his sharp hearing, he heard her say in English: “You are a stranger, lost in his own head and lost in this world. Would you like a little bit of guidance, Sir?”</p><p>Her tone was surprisingly not full of coaxing sugar, or any form of advertisement. It was soft, hushed, and concerned. </p><p>Only because he was curious about the meaning of the magic that flitted softly about her, that he approached. </p><p>She couldn’t be more than 15. He didn’t sit down at the chair opposite to her just yet. Eyes scanning the items at the table, and then levelling his gaze with the dark-brown-haired and veil-faced mystic, he couldn’t help but comment: “Aren’t you a little young to be setting shops like this out in the open streets?”</p><p>She giggled. “Thank you for your concern. I usually only do readings at my family’s shop. Some days, I follow my heart and decide on a random location to set up a temporary spot like this. Maybe today, I was meant to be here, for you. Here, dear wanderer…” She pulled a deck of cards from thin air. Vergil felt the magic thrum in the air. She wasn’t being reserved at all, using real magic like that. “Pick a card, and turn it over for both of us to see, in introduction to each other?”</p><p>Curious, and finding no harm in it, Vergil glanced down at the cards fanned out in her hand, and hovered his hand reluctantly over them before he gently slid a card out, without disturbing the other cards in her hand. </p><p>As he set it down on the table, he also finally pulled the folding chair out to sit down at it. Flipping the card over, it revealed Death, upright. </p><p>Vergil knew a bit of tarot from studying into the occult, and understood the basics of the Death card. But he could not be called an expert, so he listened patiently to the girl’s musing:</p><p>“Change, transition, the start of a new cycle… You have recently experienced something life-changing. It might not have started off pretty, or comfortable, but you have accepted it. You who introduce yourself to me as a new man at the beginning of a new point in your life… may I have something to call you by?”</p><p>She didn’t explicitly ask for his real name. But he didn’t feel compelled to give her a fake one, either. “Vergil.” He responded. </p><p>The eye contact, despite the presence of the veil, was somehow very telling: an unspoken mutual handshake of sorts. The young mystic gently pulled from her hand, her own card, and flipped it over in front of her: The Wheel of Fortune. </p><p>“Good afternoon, Vergil. I am Layla. And today, I will be your Wheel of Fortune. There is much in life that we both control, and cannot control. That we know, and yet may not know. But insight is never to be scorned. So tell me, as little as you wish, or as much as you wish: How can I help you today?”</p><p>He understood what she asked, and what she offered. Depending on the type of question he wanted answered, she will choose a spread, and give him a reading. He has done this before, back when he was on his quest for power, before the Tower. (How ironic then, when he had not liked the results of his reading… the Tower, the Tower… that card was so glaringly obvious now, that he was seeking his own ruin…)</p><p>Layla gave him time to collect his thoughts. There were many things he could ask about, but as he tallied up his problems, he realized they all summed up to one glaring issue. So finally, after minutes of pondering, he told her simply: “I am at the beginning of a new journey, yet I am without a clue as to the new purpose I should have. There are… many things that seem obvious, at first, to what I need to fulfill. But at the same time, I do not see anything long-term. Much of what my life was had been shattered by my own hands. I’m uncertain about even what it is I need anymore.”</p><p>As she listened, Layla was already pulling something from a box that she had not initially set on her table. She pulled from it, five cards that were curiously blank faced. By the time he finished, she smiled and nodded: “Any beginning is hardly easy. One could say it’s as difficult as an ending, for they are entwined in cycles. For you, perhaps we need to examine your hierarchy of needs. And I have five very special cards to use for this.” She held the stack out towards him, and Vergil could feel a slight thrum of magic she was charging into them. “A family creation, these cards. Something I seldom use with run-of-the-mill folk. A bit of magic from me, the medium, and a bit of power from you, the truth-seeker. These cards will reveal to me only the name and number of the resulting card, but for you, their imagery will be something custom, leading to deeper meaning behind the cards for you, personally. You will not need to share with me what you see, but if you are interested, then follow my instructions: share with these cards a bit of your power, take them from me, and lay them down at the spots I point to, face down.”</p><p>Nodding, he complied. The cards were warm to the touch, and surprisingly cooled when he charged them with a bit of his power and took them from her. He laid the cards face down where she pointed, and the resulting spread was an interesting pyramid shape: two cards, somewhat far apart, at the bottom. Two, closer together, one tier up. And at the top, a singular card.</p><p>“Let us start, then. This one, first.” Layla pointed at the one at the bottom, to Vergil’s left. </p><p>It revealed Temperance, upright. </p><p>The animated image of the Temperance card, to Vergil’s astonishment, did not show the usual ambiguous angel figure. </p><p>Instead, it was Nero, his bright blue wing-claws held out in display like wings. His expression was almost longing. The symbol of the triangle within a square, a representation of the holy trinity with tangible space, shined behind his head like a halo. At Nero’s feet, instead of water, he stood with one foot in blood, and the other on soft grass. Most curious were the cups he had in each hand: one poured blood, the other poured a black substance that Vergil instinctively recognized as <em> ink</em>. The two liquids curved as they left the tilted cups, passing by each other and forming a figure 8… no, the infinity symbol, before flowing into the other cup. <em> Urizen and V </em>, Vergil thought. A reunion made possible by Nero’s help. His very continued existence was also due to Nero’s mercy. </p><p>No, it wasn’t mercy. He dared to say that it was an unconditional familiar love that drove Nero to preserve their tattered family. </p><p>“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Layla said blissfully without context. “Your astonishment is unsurprising. Perhaps you also see a familiar face?”</p><p>“...Nero. My… son.” He didn’t have to tell her. But what harm was there?</p><p>“In place of the angel of Temperance? That speaks much, for his character, and how you perceive him. Balance, harmony, and a union of dualities. As you can infer, the Temperance card speaks of moderation. But it speaks of moderation in impulse before action. On its own, the card represents patience and calm, in order to achieve something in moments of chaos and stress. Both body and mind must be in balance.”</p><p>She paused for a moment, and Vergil let that information sink in. The card was almost hauntingly beautiful to him. </p><p>“This spread is called the Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. It is essentially going to be a breakdown of the essential needs in your life, your progress or relation with them, and perhaps insight on what is missing, or how to attain them, in order to start your journey to a more fulfilling life. This first card is the representation of your physiological needs; the things that help keep your physical body healthy. Even with your <em> constitution </em>, that is still an important part of your life.” Her emphasis belied her knowledge or suspicion of what he was, but for now, he did not want to question her. It may not be worth the effort, after all that had happened. </p><p>So Layla continued: “Of course, whatever had happened to end your previous journey, may have given you the chance to reevaluate your priorities, and it seems this may be one of them. I daresay, from the identity you have graced me with, that your son was a catalyst to that. To you, he is representing balance. Balance that, perhaps, he has brought back into your life. So, for half of your most basic needs, they have been met, and if I may make my own side comment on this: It’s very sweet that you see your son as Temperance.”</p><p>Coming from her, it did feel a little odd. She was barely a teen. Nero was a full-fledged adult. But he nodded his acceptance of her words. Layla wasn’t wrong. Though Dante’s tendency to order pizza for more meals than he should was vexing, Vergil appreciated regular meals again. And having access to a shower, no matter if sometimes the water ran cold, was a luxury (that could still use upgrading.) And this was among the short list of nice, albeit very human things, that he now had regular access to, and he had Nero to thank for that first. </p><p>Layla pointed at the next card, the bottom one to Vergil’s right, and so he flipped it over the reveal The Sun, upright. </p><p>True to its name, there was a warm image of the sun at the top of the card, but it was curiously above the Devil May Cry, instead of grassy fields or anything more natural. In the foreground, with his back turned, was a familiar pale and tattooed figure: V. He sat on the ground, completely unclothed, with Shadow half-curled about his backside, tail slowly moving back and forth, the panther’s body obscuring most of V’s lower half. Griffon flanked his other side, wings flapping. Though his back was turned, V was most certainly looking up at the Devil May Cry shop sign. </p><p>Layla did not ask for Vergil to describe the card to her, as she simply continued: “The Sun, hmm… upright, it is a wonderful and positive card. Good, because this means your needs for safety are positively fulfilled, or beginning to be fulfilled. The card itself represents life, joy, happiness, fulfillment, and even sometimes luck. And in regards to safety, it would mean that you at least have a place to call home: a roof over your head, stable enough that you will not worry about where you would sleep the next day. It also represents safety of finances and family, enough that you are not currently stressed by it. I gather you have a place to put your considerable abilities to use, then, for your financial matters. I am not in a position to make comments on your family, but you do keep at least one of them close to the heart, don’t you?” She smiled, and then whispered: “And it doesn't take much for me to be able to tell you are a Demon Lord, sir. Pity those who would dare to cross you and yours. Of course, in life’s journey, there is always room for improvement. But with one thing squared away there is always the next thing.”</p><p>Though Vergil stiffened at her observation, he did not let it stall him as she pointed to the next card: one up, on his left. He turned it to reveal The Emperor, upright. </p><p>Upon first seeing the title of the card, he felt a chill at the memory of Mundus, who had gone by any number of titles that meant “ruler” in the human tongue. But the card itself was… unfamiliar. No familiar faces this time. Instead, it was an unfamiliar demon… no, it was a devil. Possibly classed as a Demon Lord, considering it was The Emperor card. He sat upon a very imperial throne in black and purple carapaced glory, adorned with vibrant colour-shifting crystals. His horns were crystalline, colourful, majestic, and antler-like, clearly akin to a crown. A long and deadly scorpions tail tapped patiently at the side of his throne, his fanged smile and solid bright purple eyes holding confidence. His left arm was curled about a glaive-like spear in place of the king’s scepter, but his right hand was playing with a levitating crystal ball that also shifted in colours. The mountains and the two flowering trees (wisteria, Vergil realized) shifted through the seasons in a constant cycle: the passage of time. </p><p>Who was this? A devil his father knew? Or perhaps one he had met in Hell but forgot about? This was clearly no Mundus. So who…?</p><p>His bafflement must have shown on his face, for Layla asked: “Something the matter with what you see on this card?”</p><p>“I don’t recognize this… person.” Slowly, Vergil described to her the devilish emperor in the card before him, and for once, the veil she wore somewhat obscured what emotion might have gone through her eyes. Still, she made an amused hum, and stated: “Fascinating. Keep that detail in mind, then. Surprises could always be a tell for something in the future. The card itself, of course, represents structure, stability, authority… everything to do with control, but with discipline. It can even refer to protection, but in this spread, this card is the representation of love and belonging.”</p><p>Love, and belonging? He felt his heart clench. </p><p>“The bonds between family, friends, and significant others are an important part of one’s emotional needs and health. For this card to manifest like so… it is a fascinating manifestation of the drive to success. You strike me as the methodical and strategic type, and this card shows exactly that. But when it comes to relationships, I can’t say methodical and strategic would always be the best approach… unless you’re going about it with the right person.” The last part tapered off into something of a grumble, as if she was thinking of someone specific. But she continued on: “Regardless, you seem to have a set goal in mind, regarding the state of your bonds with others. Just try to keep in mind that… emotions, especially love, though important in life, are hardly ever bound by logic and rules. But I am certain, with this card, you will find belonging.”</p><p>Her words felt cryptic, and once again, a chill went down his spine. Yet it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant chill: could hope be so chilling a feeling?</p><p>Still, Layla prompted him onward to the next card, the last one to the right, which was the first card in reverse he had flipped this session: The Hierophant. </p><p>“Would it be allowed if I picked this card up to examine it upright?” He asked. </p><p>“Go ahead.”</p><p>The Hierophant showed Dante, lounging behind his desk, with his legs over it in his usual over-casual sitting position in his chair. The composition of the image was slightly tilted, giving the card even less of a formal look than what the usual Hierophant card should have. His right hand was raised in a salute-styled greeting, while his left arm was curled about a collection of four swords that were easy to pick out and recognize based off of shape and hilt: The Devil Sword Sparda, The Yamato, The Rebellion, and The Red Queen. At the foot of the desk, sitting on the floor and leaning back into the desk casually, were Nero and Nico. On the floor between them, with gold and silver chains crossed, were Dante and Vergil’s amulets. </p><p>“Curious.” He murmured as he set the card back down, in its reversed position. </p><p>“The Hierophant in reverse… a representation of new methodology, of an out of the box approach. Or, more crudely at times, a spirit of rebellion. And sometimes, even ignorance. Perhaps a need to break free from restraint, even. And for this spread, this card represents your esteem. That is, your need for recognition and respect, even acknowledgement.” Layla momentarily frowned. “Strange. You don’t strike me as the type to… well, I suppose I shouldn’t make assumptions. Perhaps rebellion isn’t what this card should represent for you. Acting out for attention is hardly a method that works well for adults, so I’m inclined to believe that you are not in the best of positions regarding your esteem, or how you view your esteem. Perhaps it’s time to find a different approach. Or perhaps, what would bring you that acknowledgement from those that matter in your life, would be something that others would be pleasantly surprised by. Maybe a risk or two would be involved, but it might be worth it.”</p><p>A reveal like that was somewhat daunting. Vergil could say that he has done plenty of things that were surprising and risky, but now that he thought about it, none of them were <em> pleasant </em>for his family. So perhaps he ought to keep this advice in mind. </p><p>This time, when Layla pointed to the last card, she spoke first: “This last card will represent your self-actualization. That is, something that brings you fulfillment and satisfaction, that is not a basic need, or a psychological need. It can be regarding a personal project, a goal, or any manner of hobbies and likes. More importantly, it can be in relation to your personal growth. I believe this card is the ultimate answer to your question, of where to start, in order to fulfill your needs. In this case, it sounds like you are in need of a new goal… a new need to slide among your existing ones, so to speak. So, shall we?”</p><p>He flipped the card, to reveal: The Lovers, upright. </p><p>This card was oddly devoid of people this time, where there ought to be. He knew what the original card should look like, but this one was largely different from the original. It depicted a zen garden, where a white dragon dozed upon a rock. A black and somewhat large dragonfly darted in and out of the image, oftentimes landing upon the dragon’s tail to rest. In the background was a tree, with a single heart-stopping and familiar fruit hanging from its branches: the Qliphoth fruit. And above the scene, there was no angel watching over them. Instead, only soft angel feathers fall from the sky. Perhaps, if this card was meant to be in relation to him, it should only be fitting: no angel would watch blessedly over a devil. </p><p>“My, my.” Despite only being able to see the title, there was a curious fondness in both Layla’s tone and in her veiled expression. “Perhaps bonds are something that weighs heavily in your heart. The Lovers, upright, is everything about a perfect and harmonized relationship. Perhaps this would tie in very well with what we have learned so far, then. But outside of love and bonds, this card can also represent the development of your own beliefs and philosophies in life, or a change in beliefs. But the most important part about this card would be the message to be true and genuine to yourself. And that might be a hard journey to embark on, but I believe I see you as someone who has found a newfound network to back you up. Or am I wrong?”</p><p>With the reading at its end, Vergil could only give her a wry smile: “A story not worth telling, but I can confirm that I’m not alone.”</p><p>“Good. But keep an open mind. New friends can always be a healthy option. Now… for the final role of these precious cards…” She swept up the cards, and he watched with curiosity as she clapped her hands together, cards between her palms, and the cards combusted. When the flames receded, she opened her palms to reveal a thin chain with a small charm attached to it. A necklace, where the charm was a small card barely the size of the nail of his pinky finger. </p><p>She handed the item over to him. “A charm. To serve as a visual reminder of the answers you’ve received today.”</p><p>He received it, unsure of what he was going to do with it. The card itself was simple: just a little rectangle of shifting colours. It even sparkled as if it were faceted. “A curious trinket. Something like this would not come without considerable power, or a price. How did you…? Ah, I suppose this is where I owe you a considerable amount of service fee, isn’t it?”</p><p>Layla smiled: “Oh, no. I only charge mundane people. I do this for extra spending change… not that I need it. I live comfortably in my father’s idyllic home in a private sector~” She tone was sing-song like. “Daddy always said I was the more spoiled of all the daughters. Money isn’t always a problem. As for power? It runs in the family. I’m a sorceress, after all.” She grinned. </p><p>A sorceress of this power level, at such an age… though human, she was still born into considerable power, and she was certainly well-trained to use it so well. </p><p>“Sorceress you may be, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are a child talking to dangerous strangers out on the street.” He pocketed the charm. </p><p>“So I’m always told. You remind your own son that, often?” She simply continued to smile, cheek resting in her palm as she leaned against the table surface. </p><p>Vergil could only scoff lightly, and began to stand up from the chair. “Thank you, for your insight. And you are certain you wish for no payment for your services? You are, after all, at an opportunity to ask a favor of a Devil.” He would not leave without letting some of his own cunning come into play, at least in banter. </p><p>“Half-Devil.” She surprisingly corrected him. “And if you would like to do me a favor, then how about you head down into the shopping district behind me… and simply go check out a cafe named ‘Novis Initiis’?”</p><p>“‘New Beginnings’?” He recognized the latin phrase. “A curious request to follow up with. Are you simply here to advertise for the establishment so fittingly named in the context of your trade?” He hadn’t meant for it to come off teasing, but Layla didn’t seem to mind. Her response, however, was cryptic and intriguing:</p><p>“Why don’t you find out? Just remember: Blood is thicker than water. In both contexts.”</p><p>In the past, Vergil might have become irate at such cryptic nonsense. But it would be unbecoming to become vexed at and to argue with a child, so he simply thanked her cordially, and did exactly as she asked. </p><p>After all, there was still a long time before sundown, and what else would he do before going home?</p><p>It wasn’t a far walk. But as he began to near the Novis Initiis, something else prickled his senses, far differently than the way Layla’s magic did. </p><p>Something big was there. Not physically. It was in the presence of power, and it was something demonic. </p><p>Sitting at one of the tables outside was a person that Vergil was immediately able to pinpoint as the source of the power: jet black hair was cut into something loose and free, not too long and not too short. (If Vergil had ever seen Nero in his teen years, this could compare.) The man was an adult who looked close to his own age, and of course, this being Hong Kong, it was no surprise that he was Asian. Dressed in a short-sleeved dark-purple silk shirt with an iconic east-asian styling to it, accented by motifs of butterfly wings in the colours of the setting sun. And despite how warm it was in this tropical and coastal city, Vergil noticed a long black coat draped on the back of his chair. </p><p>Three empty glasses of <em> something </em>were set aside on his table, while he worked at a fourth glass of his drink. Well, he was. When Vergil got near enough to see the cafe and its patrons, the man looked right at him with piercing violet eyes. </p><p>He clearly could sense what Vergil was. </p><p>Whatever this man was, Vergil wasn’t quite pinning it down yet. He did not feel like what a part-devil felt like… but then again, Vergil only knew of Dante and Nero, who were kin. Perhaps other hybrids felt different? Whatever this power was, it didn’t feel like his own, yet still different from the grotesque feeling Arkham had radiated. This was not something festering. It was certainly something attached to him… not quite his, yet intricately entwined. </p><p>A young woman, a server at the cafe, walked up to the man, and seemed to tease him about something in Chinese. But he was still looking at Vergil, and a smile tugged at one corner of the man’s lips as he spoke, in English, at a volume that Vergil only could have heard because of his devil-blood: “Another Irish coffee, Rowan. And bring… I’d say, a double-shot espresso mocha, with whipped cream on top.”</p><p>“Whipped cream? You don’t even--”</p><p>The man simply smiled and reached forward to tap at the area of the table across from him, and the waitress realized he was gazing elsewhere, following his gaze to see Vergil standing not too far away. </p><p>“For my guest.” He said plainly. And Vergil recognized the invitation that he ought not to refuse, both by that action, and from his words, combined with the challenging gaze in those violet irises. </p><p>Somehow, this changed the waitress’s expression and tone, from exasperation immediately to understanding. She swept away the used glasses, and left to bring back the orders. </p><p>Warily, and with deliberate care, Vergil arrived at the table, pulled out the chair, and sat down with his hands steepled above the surface of the table. </p><p>His host leaned forward, one arm on the table, and asked simply: “Well met. What brings a stranger like you to my part of the city?”</p><p>He could hear the underlying question in the smooth baritone: <em> Why are you in my territory? </em></p><p>“Passing through. No other reason than that.” Vergil responded evenly. </p><p>“You’re <em> really </em>not from around here. Not with that accent. UK?”</p><p>Now that was a curious question for this… maybe-not-human to be asking. </p><p>“I was raised there, yes.”</p><p>“Only for a short time, I would gather. You reek of Hell.”</p><p>Before Vergil could respond, the waitress, surprisingly quick, arrived back with their drinks. Vergil felt from her, also, a faint thrum of magic, but he was too preoccupied with the potential threat in front of him to care. </p><p>Yet, the man did not continue his questioning, and instead took his drink, leaned back, and began to enjoy his beverage. </p><p>This left Vergil looking at the concoction brought to him: he didn’t exactly know what a double-shot espresso was, much less what a mocha was. But he <em> did </em> know whipped cream. Seeing as he was socially obligated both by politeness and devil-manners to take at least one bite of the food offered, he picked up a spoon and dipped it into the cream. (“Food” in the Underworld was scarce. To share sustenance with another meant truce, for at least as long as the food lasts.)</p><p>Whipped cream was as sweet as he remembered, from when he was a child. Perhaps it was due to how long ago he last indulged, but the sugar concoction seemed better than he remembered, too. </p><p>Having at least gotten that part of their social niceties out of the way, the man lowered his drink, blinked in a sort of slow way that Vergil recognized as an acknowledgement of their… <em> truce </em>, and finally asked an important and relevant question: “Who are you?”</p><p>He decided to keep his response simple: “Vergil.”</p><p>“Vergil… all right. Welcome, Vergil. I am YuFeng. But to anyone who speaks the English tongue, I am Roy. I think it goes without saying, but this city is my home. And you, I might hazard to guess, are related to the infamous Legendary Devil Hunter named Dante, who lives in Europe.”</p><p>Vergil almost wanted to deny it. Being recognized as Dante-adjacent somehow still bruised his ego. So he all but snapped: “And what gave that away?”</p><p>“Ha! Anyone in the business of hunting the stray denizens of Hell would know of Dante, by name and description both. White hair and blue eyes are something of a… trait of interest, here on the eastern continents. Especially white hair. It’s tied with the image of divinity. Besides that, I happen to actually read western literature. Your appearance, where you are from, and your name, bear too much coincidence. And since you have confirmed that for me, that also confirms the rumors I hear that Dante is not human. Not entirely.” Roy stated in a  matter-of-fact manner, not at all concerned at the revelations he’s connected. </p><p>“And what of you, then? You are no less entwined with the beings of Hell, are you not?”</p><p>“Well, that’s my family’s business.”</p><p>Finding this conversation turning irksome, Vergil immediately challenged back: “This hardly seems fair, since you now know my identity, and more information regarding my brother.” He deliberately flashed his fangs at him. </p><p>Again, Roy responded with a slow blink, and then with a grin of his own, deliberately and carefully showing one of his fangs in response: “You are the one telling me these things. I said you were related to Dante. Never said he was your brother. But now I know that, too.”</p><p>Vergil immediately found the desire to unsheathe Yamato and stab this man. </p><p>Or perhaps, after years of dealing with idiots, imbeciles, and <em> not actually really being social </em> (half-dead or possessed) meant he’s lost his touch.</p><p>Roy then sighed, a very human gesture, for once, and took another sip of his drink, before continuing: “Fine. Let me see… information of equal value, then. I have a family curse, so to speak. That’s why you’re sensing… whatever it is you’re sensing. Or smelling. I wouldn’t know how you go about it. For me, it’s scent. It’s a long story, family history and all that. And it’s a dreadfully sappy love story. I don’t think you’d be interested.”</p><p>Vergil furrowed his brow at Roy’s information. Was he curious? Yes. Did he actually care? No. Except for one thing: “What are you, then?”</p><p>Roy scowled. “I already explained, it’s a family curse. I’m a vessel. But I’m also me. That’s all there is to know.”</p><p>Vergil recognized an end to the subject matter, so he dipped his head only slightly, blinked, and brought his gaze down to his own drink, breaking eye contact and signalling that he will stop his inquiry. The whipped cream was melting into the hot beverage. </p><p>“Not much of a coffee fan? Pity. I thought my intuition was better than that.” Roy noticed that he hadn’t touched his drink beyond tasting the topping. </p><p>Debating on how to respond, Vergil carefully chose his words: “You have said it yourself, that I was not… around, for too long. I don’t know what this drink is.”</p><p>“Ah.” It wasn’t a condescending “ah”, or even a surprised one. It was more like an acknowledgement. “That’s a mocha with two shots of espresso. Espresso is coffee. You know of coffee?”</p><p>“I do. Dante has a very cheap coffee machine, and I have been told by his friends that he drinks terrible coffee. So I never bothered with it myself.” </p><p>“Shame. Well, nothing is cheap here. A mocha is usually coffee mixed with chocolate. At this point, you might want to stir it a little, first. The chocolate tends to settle.”</p><p>This was an oddly very… normal conversation, that he was having with a stranger. Or maybe he should call it refreshing? Dante was not what Vergil would consider as his favorite conversational partner. Not with words, at least. His brother was meddlesome, persistent, and annoying. Vergil preferred their conversations to be with swords instead. Nero, on the other hand, was an awkward conversational partner, for obvious reasons. The young man would try in many ways to have a normal and human conversation with Vergil, but just about all of the topics are of some sort of personal nature: it’s always a need of information exchange that Vergil wasn’t sure if he were ready to provide. </p><p>And then there were the ladies. Nicoletta was always happy to ramble on, somehow uncaring that it was Vergil of all people she was bothering. Though he was secretly impressed by her genius, he wasn’t one to be forthcoming with praise. And Lady? Vergil would rather not interact with Lady. She gave him scrutinizing looks often, and he dared not to approach her to settle whatever matters she had with him, going on in her head. </p><p>No, he was perfectly fine with leaving things as is with her. </p><p>And finally, he and Trish did not even need to exchange any words. There was an unspoken agreement: they didn’t need to. Not yet. </p><p>(Kyrie, whom he had met a few times, was probably one of the nicest out of the entire crew. But with his track record of breaking everything he touched as if they were porcelain, he tried to keep away. Nero deserved better than the history both Vergil and Sparda went through, and this time, Vergil will NOT allow history to repeat.)</p><p>Back to the mocha. </p><p>The concept of chocolate and coffee together actually sounded nice. </p><p>Vergil won’t ever admit it, but he liked chocolate. Liked sweets, probably just as much as Dante. Strawberry sundaes were nice, but it didn’t really hit the spot for him as much as it seemed to do for Dante. </p><p>Carefully stirring the concoction, melting more of the whipped cream into it, he finally lifted the hot drink up to take a sip. </p><p>It was a very new combination of flavors for him. Nice, even. Not unpleasant, and suddenly he felt like he had been missing out on a lot, having been restricted to Dante’s lifestyle for the past six months. And he felt compelled to say so: “This is a pleasant drink. It’s a shame my brother doesn’t have any taste beyond pizza, strawberry sundaes, and apparently bad coffee.”</p><p>“Not a very refined sort, is he?” There was some sort of fond realization on Roy’s face, and it snapped Vergil back to a sort of reality:</p><p>“I am not letting this be an opportunity for you to solely get information out of me. I will not fall prey to an imbalance of give and take, again.” The memory of Arkham, who had so easily manipulated Vergil for his own machinations, began to surface in his mind. </p><p>Something flickered in Roy’s eyes. Something Vergil couldn’t place. “At ease. It was simply a comment of observation. So, you like the drink?”</p><p>Instead of responding verbally, Vergil ignored Roy and took another drink from his cup. That was answer enough, and Roy knew it. So he chucked, and asked: “All right, enough of that, then. I’ll get to the point. Dante lives all the way over in Europe, but he’s well known among the demon hunting community. Despite that, we never call him out of Europe, because this area…” Roy motions about him, but likely indicating most of the South-Asian continent, “Has its own hunting community that can get the job done. Besides that, the demons further east are of a different ilk. So pardon me for being concerned at your presence, regardless of who you are related to. Demon Lords moving in are hardly a good thing. If you were sent here, that’s still a concern. So let me ask you again: why are you here?”</p><p>So, by and large, this was still a territorial thing. Vergil could understand that easily enough. Dante might feign ignorance at the matter, but a large chunk of the European area was <em> his </em> territory. And he shared it so willingly with Trish and Lady. (Truth be told, Vergil had thought perhaps Dante took Lady as a mate, to let her run rampant over both his area and his finances so freely. But so far that didn’t seem to be the case? No matter. His little brother’s nest-problems were not his concern.) He could even argue that Dante simply <em> gave </em> a piece of his territory over to Nero, though in truth, the Fortuna area by rights could have belonged to any of the descendants of Sparda. </p><p>How vexing was it that on the one time Vergil took a journey for purely <em> human </em> purposes, he encountered a very <em> demon </em> problem. </p><p>How should he even explain this? </p><p>“I’m not here to incite problems. I ended up here purely by coincidence.”</p><p>“How does someone from Europe end up here by coincidence?”</p><p>Roy’s gaze was now something of a glare, and Vergil realized his folly. He’d have to explain the Yamato, and that did not seem like a good idea at all. </p><p>But then, he found what he hoped was the perfect excuse: “The little girl doing tarot readings out there recommended that I check out this cafe.”</p><p>It was a very weak excuse, one that probably wouldn’t take. But Roy said: “Ah. XiaoYian.” </p><p>Vergil could only assume that was the girl’s Chinese name, as Roy said it with a tone of familiarity. But then, as Roy scrutinized Vergil more, his gaze briefly held realization as he said: “You got a reading from her, and she sent you <em> here</em>.” </p><p>“In a manner of speaking. Why, should I be concerned?” </p><p>And then Roy laughed. He seemed to be laughing about something to himself, and muttered something in Chinese under his breath, before saying: “No, not all all. That girl… she sent you here, to me, on purpose. Ah, she does tend to meddle a little. But, fine, I will yield to the spoiled little princess again.” </p><p>He turned to rummage around one of the pockets of the coat he had at the back of his chair. Finding what he was looking for, he handed Vergil a business card that said “Fang and Claw” on it. </p><p>“I’m certain you would never have need of our <em> hunting services </em>, so I won’t bother giving you a password. But our storefront is basically an odds and ends place that buys and sells items of the occultic nature… both the kind that have nothing supernatural to it, and the kinds that need to be supervised.”</p><p>That’s certainly a useful connection to have. But as Vergil received the card, he was compelled to ask: “Why exactly would Layla specifically send me here to meet you? Is there a purpose to it, or some form of agreement between you and the girl?”</p><p>“Now that’s a difficult question to answer. The cards are hardly ever straightforward, and sometimes, little Layla is just as cryptic.” Roy sighed. “I can’t tell you if she was sending you here for your sake or mine, but if you received a reading from her, I can only assume you are searching for something?”</p><p>A long time ago, Vergil had absolutely one goal and one goal only: power. Ultimate power. </p><p>A part of him still held that mantra, a whisper in the depths of his heart. </p><p>But now things were different. </p><p>“I arrived in the area largely by accident, in need of a change of scenery after having a fight with my son. Layla happened to be… at a very opportune juncture.”</p><p>“Opportune, indeed. Do not underestimate that girl’s ability to be at the right place at the right time. I’m sorry to hear that you had a fight with your son. Has the situation resolved, or is it still…?”</p><p>There was a touching concern in Roy’s tone. </p><p>“I believe we will… work it out. The confrontation didn’t end terribly, all things considered. It will simply take time. And some consideration. Hence my wandering that led me here.” After a moment of thought, he looked down at the mocha again, and he then added: “And I suppose it doubles as a trip to experience some new things, it seems. Dante may have somehow earned the title of the Legendary Devil Hunter, but my little brother has terrible living habits, which extends to a lack of variety in his diet.”</p><p>“Let’s see… Pizza, ice cream, and terrible coffee, right?” Roy smirked as he recalled. </p><p>“Exactly.” Vergil couldn’t help but feel a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “And he’s never good at listening to what others tell him.”</p><p>“Little brothers are wont to be exasperating at times. But they also like to say the same about older siblings… that we don’t listen to what they have to say.” Roy scoffed, but then realized he revealed something without prompting. </p><p>“Well, then we have a little in common, then.” Vergil smiled. </p><p>Roy narrowed his eyes at him. “Well, I suppose it’s only fair I should let you know a little more. I had no business asking you what you were searching for in your readings. But Layla may have sent you my way with some bit of ulterior motive. She tends to meddle, though with valid concern. Last year, there was a death in the family. My… mate. My wife, but that term doesn’t have the same emotional ring to it, for someone like me. The incident has caused a bit of an upset in the family, of course. And I had a brief fight with my brother. While we’ve made peace, he’s remained distant since, remaining out of town for as long as possible, treasure-hunting. It’s been good for the business, but I miss him. We were inseparable for so long. 40-years long.”</p><p>If Vergil were being honest, when he thought Roy looked “relatively close to his own age”, he meant “close to how he looked more like he was in his 30’s”. Not “actually in their 40’s.” Then again, the dark-haired man didn’t seem entirely human, no matter what convoluted terms he was using about himself. So Vergil shouldn’t have been surprised. </p><p>“...I have been told, before, that the separation gets worse with time. Have you had the chance to speak with him about it?” He never thought he would be able to take what little experiences he had learnt from Dante, and apply it as advice as any sort to anyone else. </p><p>“Briefly, and recently. He asked if I was done moping alone over 50 drinks a day yet.” There was a brief moment of Roy’s gaze flickering down at his drink, clearly guilty of still doing that exact same thing, and trying not to show his guilt. </p><p>Somehow, Vergil found this revelation fascinating. </p><p>“Well, maybe next time, you can tell him you aren’t moping over 50 drinks alone, then, seeing as you’ve shared one with me.” He raised the mocha to his lips and finished the rest of it. He liked it. Perhaps he should ask Dante, or Nero, if they knew of any good cafes around the shop. </p><p>Roy laughed a dry laugh. “True, but I think we both know this one incident won’t suffice.” He bitterly pressed his lips to a thin line, thoughtful. “I simply don’t know what to do with my routine anymore. It’s not that I haven’t adapted. But my brother thinks I didn’t adapt correctly. I am still doing my tasks as needed. Managing the shop where I’m needed, hunting down problematic pests, spending time with the children… but there’s now this large amount of time and space open in my life that I don’t know what to fill it with.”</p><p>Vergil could somewhat understand the sentiment. Now that he wasn’t on a large quest for power, he also had large moments of listlessness. He’s tried to fill it with books when he wasn’t trying to get Dante to do something about his bad habits, but even for him, the same thing over and over again for the last six months was getting to him. </p><p>“Maybe we both need a change in routine.” He said that out loud, more to himself, but it was heard nonetheless. </p><p>“Maybe so. Maybe I wouldn’t be opposed to small changes. Sharing more drinks with strangers. Or even new friends.”</p><p>An invitation. Vergil wasn’t entirely dense to social matters. However: “I could hardly just call you over the phone to set an appointment time. Dante can barely afford his normal bills, much less afford international calling.”</p><p>Roy thought about it for a moment, and then asked: “Layla gave you some sort of charm at the end of your reading, didn’t she?”</p><p>“Do you mean this?” He retrieved the thin chain from his pocket. </p><p>“May I see it?”</p><p>It wasn’t something he was super attached to, so he handed it over easily. Roy examined it, and Vergil felt a light thrum of magic in the air as he clearly did something to it. When he received it back, he noticed that the charm felt ever slightly different. </p><p>“Try… sending an inquiry though it.”</p><p>“A question?”</p><p>“Not an actual question. Not in words. A feeling. A… communication.”</p><p>So he had turned it into a charm of communication. How interesting. Feeding the charm a bit of his own power and will, he did as he was asked, and sent through it his curiosity. </p><p>Moments after doing so, he felt something emanate from the charm: amusement, followed by acknowledgement.</p><p>He realized it was a response. </p><p>“This is powerful magic. And you did so with ease.” Vergil felt a slight wariness creep into him. </p><p>“Yes, well, it helps that it was Layla’s charm. Besides, the power itself wasn’t much. Just the weaving of the spell that could be difficult. Difference between weaving a web with some thread, and using threads to hold up a heavy object. What power I have probably doesn’t compare to someone who ate the fruit of the great demonic tree.”</p><p>Vergil tensed, and grabbed for Yamato (that was still disguised as a silver cane.) Roy immediately said: “Don’t be startled. If you want to know how or why I know, I can only tell you that my curse is sometimes helpful, and I have a very good sense of smell. And frankly, I don’t care. The veil between worlds had been thinning by the centuries, and we all knew that tree was going to break through eventually. I’m simply surprised that the one who partook of the fruit isn’t in the Underworld, raising Hell to the human world. But I suppose this is for the best, won’t you say, <em> your majesty </em>?”</p><p>Vergil didn’t quite like the sound of that. Odd, for how long he had chased after power, now that he had it, he didn’t like the way he was being recognized for it. What exactly was it about this that was unsettling him?</p><p>“I think our coffee breaks can be better done on… equal terms. Simply one half-devil to… another equally different person of interest.”</p><p>Something cryptic was in Roy’s expression this time, as he smiled. “Equal, you say? That’s more appealing than you’d think. And since it’s clearly been bothering you, I’ll let you know that part-devil wouldn’t be entirely wrong to describe me. I am simultaneously human and devil. But that’s something to explain another day, and only if it becomes worth explaining.”</p><p>“Then I’ll look forward to hearing about it, and about that sappy romance story you claimed was involved. How much do I owe you for this drink?”</p><p>Roy laughed at that, and then waved his offer away: “Don’t bother. Rowan’s already added it to my final tab of the day. But, I suppose we’ll meet again?”</p><p>“That was the agreement, yes?” Vergil stood up, and Roy mirrored the action. </p><p>“Yes. By the way, if your brother has issues with bills… I’m happy to do business. I’m sure the Devil May Cry hunters find all sorts of interesting things of value here and there, and they may be worth a pretty sum if you bring things over for appraisal.”</p><p>“I’ll let him know. Thank you for the coffee.”</p><p>“Anytime. Safe travels, Vergil.”</p>
<hr/><p>When he got back to the shop, there was still plenty of daylight, and Dante and Nero were boarding up the broken window. </p><p>“Hey, thought you wouldn’t be back until it got dark. You doing okay?” Dante asked, not even hiding his concern. </p><p>“Better. Nero, about earlier…”</p><p>“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it anymore. Just… I get it. Just try to, I don’t know… I’ll push a little less but you gotta give me something, okay? Even if it’s only a bit at a time. I’ll be patient. You do look better though. Where did you go?” Nero tried to keep things casual again, but he still ran his hand through his hair once, nervous since the fight. </p><p>“At a coffee shop.” He said plainly. </p><p>“Bro, if you needed coffee, I could’ve made you some.” And Dante was immediately back on his game again. </p><p>“I’ve been informed by your lady-friends that your coffee is horrendous. I respectfully decline.” He scowled, but it wasn't malicious. “Besides, I’ve discovered today that coffee can be more than just coffee. I think I’ll be visiting cafes more often.”</p><p>Dante thought about it for a moment. “Huh. You know… I guess that wouldn’t be too bad. You could use more fresh air. Heck, come with me to my favorite places for ice cream. They serve varieties of coffee there, too. What did you have today?”</p><p>“Something called a mocha. It was...pleasant.”</p>
<hr/><p>When Roy King got home that day, he went first to the family room, where Layla was reading some mystery novel of her choosing. She immediately greeted without looking up from her book: “<em>Welcome home, [father].” </em> The specific term of endearment she used in Chinese was not a typical one… as a part of a joke among the “King” family, she referred to him with the endearment that a prince or princess would to their parent. Though formal in the context of a royal family, it was actually meaningful and touching in their family. “<em>Did you like the present I sent you today?” </em></p><p>“<em>Princess, did you realize your present was the prospective Demon King of Hell, in everything but the actual ‘ruling hell’ aspect? </em>”</p><p>“<em>Was he? Well, isn’t that all the better? </em>”</p><p>He sat down in his preferred chair, and pulled a thin chain with a small charm out from under his shirt. “<em>You gave him one of these. [Layla], I know you’re concerned, but even this might be a little drastic. If rumors are to be believed, you’ve just sent a Son of Sparda my way. That’s not… </em>”</p><p>Layla finally glanced up from her book, eyes wide. <em> “He’s what?” </em></p><p>
  <em> “He’s the Legendary Devil Hunter’s older brother. If rumors are to be believed, Dante is the Son of Sparda. And Vergil, who is undeniably part-devil, would also be so.” </em>
</p><p>Closing her book, Layla was thoughtful, before telling her father: <em> “No, this changes nothing. You cannot continue like this. Other people may wait years of festering before they address a problem, but I will not abide. One year is long enough, lest the emotions of your curse consume you and YuYing both. I have already lost a mother. I will not lose another parent. Besides, isn’t it better that he’s so high in status? What better than the King of Hell for our King of the Hive?” </em></p><p><em> “[Layla].” </em> He spoke sternly. <em> “This really isn’t a joking matter. Why did you send him to me?” </em></p><p>
  <em> “I performed a spread for him today, and you showed up in one of his cards.” </em>
</p><p>Roy waited for her to continue explaining. </p><p><em> “The Emperor, upright. A card often associated with you. And when he described the stranger upon the throne, I knew it was you. Well, your Devil. I won’t tell you what his reading was, but I knew then, that it was worth a shot.” </em> She paused, and then added: <em> “You don’t have to get so worked up over it, father. But you really need a friend. Mother’s death hurt all of us. I know she was very important to you and Ying, but do not forget that I am the seer of the family. You and Ying are the pillar of the family. But we have no support if the two of you continue on like this.” </em></p><p>Roy knew that. He knew that well. </p><p>He wasn’t opposed to new friendships. When he first caught the scent of Vergil, he was deeply concerned at first. The amount of power he had was thick in the air. The way scent worked for him was very different. It was more than just chemical sense. There was a layer of something extra in his senses. </p><p>Vergil smelled like power and flames lit by natural gas. (Yes, Roy could smell that kind of thing.) He also smelled like the ashes of hell and <em> apples. </em></p><p>
  <em> APPLES. </em>
</p><p>The King of Hell smelled like <em> apples </em> and the sweet scent was something that stood out even among everything else in his scent. </p><p>It was baffling, but pleasant. </p><p>(And yes, he was absolutely attractive. Roy liked to think he knew what to look for, too. He was a vain man, himself.)</p><p>Was it too early to decide on what he was going to do with this encounter, engineered by the hands of fate? (And by that, he really meant by the meddling of his daughter.)</p><p>It was too late to ask himself what his decision was. He was already making a list of all the different drinks, and maybe even food, he might order for Vergil to try. </p><p>(He’s not sure how he’s going to explain this to his brother, later…)</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>- The spread Layla used was the Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.<br/>- If you are unfamiliar with Tarot (which I would imagine it’s not a topic of common sense) I highly suggest looking up the cards I have mentioned. “Labyrinthos” should be a decent source of information, and I put a lot of thought into the choices for the imagery in each card. There is a lot of delicious symbolism!<br/>- Asian fantasy rule of thumb: if you want to show a character has attained divinity/power, try turning their hair white and all of their clothes white. <br/>- Yes, this does add to a factor of attractiveness. <br/>- While Vergil technically needs to properly dethrone Mundus once and for all and “take the crown” to be the King of Hell, Roy doesn’t care. The power itself is status enough. :’D<br/>- Am I doing this slow burn thing right?</p><p>Apologies to my readers that comment who are not registered users, but in order to minimize undesired commentary from insensitive people, I refuse to allow them to hide behind the ability to make me guess on the source of such comments. I have life and a family to take care of outside of my fanworks, and stress from fanworks is undesired. I still love each and every one of you who have commented without an account, and I hope you continue to enjoy reading my works.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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